Many, many years ago there was an emperor who was so terribly fond of beautiful new clothes that he spent all his money on his attire. He did not care about his soldiers, or attending the theatre, or even going for a drive in the park, unless it was to show off his new clothes. He had an outfit for every hour of the day. And just as we say, "The king is in his council chamber," his subjects used to say, "The emperor is in his clothes closet." In the large town where the emperor's palace was, life was gay and happy; and every day new visitors arrived. One day two swindlers came. They told everybody that they were weavers and that they could weave the most marvellous cloth. Not only were the colours and the patterns of their material extraordinarily beautiful, but the cloth had the strange quality of being invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office or unforgivably stupid. "This is truly marvellous," thought the emperor. "Now if I had robes cut from that material, I should know which of my councillors was unfit for his office, and I would be able to pick out my clever subjects myself. They must weave some material for me!" And he gave the swindlers a lot of money so they could start working at once. They set up a loom and acted as if they were weaving, but the loom was empty. The fine silk and gold threads they demanded from the emperor they never used, but hid them in their own knapsacks. Late into the night they would sit before their empty loom, pretending to weave. "I would like to know how far they've come," thought the emperor; but his heart beat strangely when he remembered that those who were stupid or unfit for their office would not be able to see the material. Not that he was really worried that this would happen to him. Still, it might be better to send someone else the first time and see how he fared. Everybody in town had heard about the cloth's magic quality and most of them could hardly wait to find out how stupid or unworthy their neighbours were. "I shall send my faithful prime minister to see the weaver," thought the emperor. "He will know how to judge the material, for he is both clever and fit for his office, if any man is." The good-natured old man stepped into the room where the weavers were working and saw the empty loom. He closed his eyes, and opened them again. "God preserve me!" he thought. "I cannot see a thing!" But he didn't say it out loud. The swindlers asked him to step a little closer so that he could admire the intricate patterns and marvellous colours of the material they were weaving. They both pointed to the empty loom, and the poor old prime minister opened his eyes as wide as he could; but it didn't help, he still couldn't see anything. "Am I stupid?" he thought. "I can't believe it, but if it is so, it is best no one finds out about it. But maybe I am not fit for my office. No, that is worse, I'd better not admit that I can't see what they are weaving." "Tell us what you think of it," demanded one of the swindlers. "It is beautiful. It is very lovely," mumbled the old prime minister, adjusting his glasses. "What patterns! What colours! I shall tell the emperor that I am greatly pleased." "And that pleases us," the weavers said; and now they described the patterns and told which shades of colour they had used. The prime minister listened attentively, so that he could repeat their words to the emperor, and that is exactly what he did. The two swindlers demanded more money, and more silk and gold thread. They said they had to use it for their weaving, but their loom remained as empty as ever. Soon the emperor sent another of his trusted councillors to see how the work was progressing. He looked and looked just as the prime minister had, but since there was nothing to be seen, he didn't see anything. "Isn't it a marvellous piece of material?" asked one of the swindlers; and they both began to describe the beauty of their cloth again. "I am not stupid," thought the emperor's councillor. "I must be unfit for my office. That is strange; but I'd better not admit it to anyone." And he started to praise the material, which he could not see, for the loveliness of its patterns and colours. "I think it is the most charming piece of material I have ever seen," declared the councillor to the emperor. Everyone in town was talking about the marvellous cloth that the swindlers were weaving. At last the emperor himself decided to see it before it was removed from the loom. Attended by the most important people in the empire, among them the prime minister and the councillor who had been there before, the emperor entered the room where the weavers were weaving furiously on their empty loom. "Isn't it magnifique?" asked the prime minister. "Your Majesty, look at the colours and patterns," said the councillor. And the two old gentlemen pointed to the empty loom, believing that all the rest of the company could see the cloth. "What!" thought the emperor. "I can't see a thing! Why, this is a disaster! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? Oh, it is too horrible!" Aloud he said, "It is very lovely. It has my approval," while he nodded his head and looked at the empty loom. All the councillors, ministers, and men of great importance who had come with him stared and stared; but they saw no more than the emperor had seen, and they said the same thing that he had said, "It is lovely." And they advised him to have clothes cut and sewn, so that he could wear them in the procession at the next great celebration. "It is magnificent! Beautiful! Excellent!" All of their mouths agreed, though none of their eyes had seen anything. The two swindlers were decorated and given the title "Royal Knight of the Loom." The night before the procession, the two swindlers didn't sleep at all. They had sixteen candles lighting up the room where they worked. Everyone could see how busy they were, getting the emperor's new clothes finished. They pretended to take cloth from the loom; they cut the air with their big scissors, and sewed with needles without thread. At last they announced: "The emperor's new clothes are ready!" Together with his courtiers, the emperor came. The swindlers lifted their arms as if they were holding something in their hands, and said, "These are the trousers. This is the robe, and here is the train. They are all as light as if they were made of spider webs! It will be as if Your Majesty had almost nothing on, but that is their special virtue." "Oh yes," breathed all the courtiers; but they saw nothing, for there was nothing to be seen. "Will Your Imperial Majesty be so gracious as to take off your clothes?" asked the swindlers. "Over there by the big mirror, we shall help you put your new ones on." The emperor did as he was told; and the swindlers acted as if they were dressing him in the clothes they should have made. Finally they tied around his waist the long train which two of his most noble courtiers were to carry. The emperor stood in front of the mirror admiring the clothes he couldn't see. "Oh, how they suit you! A perfect fit!" everyone exclaimed. "What colours! What patterns! The new clothes are magnificent!" "The crimson canopy, under which Your Imperial Majesty is to walk, is waiting outside," said the imperial master of court ceremony. "Well, I am dressed. Aren't my clothes becoming?" The emperor turned around once more in front of the mirror, pretending to study his finery. The two gentlemen of the imperial bedchamber fumbled on the floor trying to find the train which they were supposed to carry. They didn't dare admit that they didn't see anything, so they pretended to pick up the train and held their hands as if they were carrying it. The emperor walked in the procession under his crimson canopy. And all the people of the town, who had lined the streets or were looking down from the windows, said that the emperor's new clothes were beautiful. "What a magnificent robe! And the train! How well the emperor's clothes suit him!" None of them were willing to admit that they hadn't seen a thing; for if anyone did, then he was either stupid or unfit for the job he held. Never before had the emperor's clothes been such a success. "But he doesn't have anything on!" cried a little child. "Listen to the innocent one," said the proud father. And the people whispered among each other and repeated what the child had said. "He doesn't have anything on. There's a little child who says that he has nothing on." "He has nothing on!" shouted all the people at last. The emperor shivered, for he was certain that they were right; but he thought, "I must bear it until the procession is over." And he walked even more proudly, and the two gentlemen of the imperial bedchamber went on carrying the train that wasn't there.

The descent into Aspergers or the normal professional ageing process.

During my 30’s I was sent on many trips to observe the making of the magic cloth. My reports were precise and descriptive. I gave professional presentations about the nature of the cloth and its implication in terms of the future of the empire. Progress, schedules and timing were reported. A bibliography and appendix were always in order.

During my 40’s I became a chamberlain. I was the emperor’s sounding board. I assured him of the cut of his jib and advantages of style. On the day of the suit’s coming out party I was in charge of supporting the train. I was the chamberlain who became the public crier announcing the coming of the emperor on that faithful day.

During my 50’s I started kept my own council. I would nod with appreciation when the emperor walked past. When asked about the magic suit clothes I would say, “It is his finest.” or “It is indescribable.” With all the attention to fashion and magic some one had to run the day to day business of empire. By default I was left with the job.

Now I am in my 60’s. I offer little advice. When asked about how the emperor appears in his magic suit clothes I state, “The mother-fu_ker looks naked to me.”

Your clothes are threadbare, worn thin, you are all over them like a cheap suit...ah this world is done with you - the one mutha comes to drive out the many phuckers....so offer me some more little advice, you muthaphucker you!

Quote: "Your clothes are threadbare, worn thin, you are all over them like a cheap suit...ah this world is done with you - the one mutha comes to drive out the many phuckers....so offer me some more little advice, you muthaphucker you! ".........

Bad manners have always bored me. Little boys trying to speak like men have always bored me. But I am easily bored and can only offer compassion for I know no other answers. MU.

Thing is, stephen keeps giving the game away and now he has a low boredom threshold to add to his boringness but without the whole - I knew someone like stephen once , he was younger than me but older if you know what I mean, always ready with a helpful hint, and a friendly sideswipe (or is that fiendly? I dunno, who cares), y'know like: go phuck yourself and other timely reminders. Ah those were the days, never to return. I'm just glad I'm not him.

Topic closed!77087

Reply from ______

Dec.20.2007
12:50PM EDT

Oh and I didn't even get started on the bad manners and the definitions of bad boys and nasty girls and compassion and all that jazz. So all I can offer you is my not little not big thanks for your discriminatory salemanship in the service of another's belief system. Wackadoo. Ps: Wackaday.

Topic closed!77089

Reply from ______

Dec.20.2007
01:04PM EDT

Good things always come in threes: You don't know me, you don't how "old" I am, you don't know where I live, you don't know whether I'm a boy, a girl, a hermaphrodite; you don't know what side my parts swing, you don't know whether I'm heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual, asexual, or none of the above. You don't know what a man is. You don't know where I went today and whether I will be doing anything tomorrow. You don't know whether I breath without needing a teacher and the difference between compassion and a Big Mac that somebody else killed for ya. You don't know what I eat, drink, or where I shop or how much money I have. You don't know what I create or how boring and bad I can be. You don't know who my Internet Service Provider is. So, what else do you want to know.

Quote: "Good things always come in threes: You don&apos;t know me, you don&apos;t how "old" I am, you don&apos;t know where I live, you don&apos;t know whether I&apos;m a boy, a girl, a hermaphrodite; you don&apos;t know what side my parts swing, you don&apos;t know whether I&apos;m heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual, asexual, or none of the above. You don&apos;t know what a man is. You don&apos;t know where I went today and whether I will be doing anything tomorrow. You don&apos;t know whether I breath without needing a teacher and the difference between compassion and a Big Mac that somebody else killed for ya. You don&apos;t know what I eat, drink, or where I shop or how much money I have. You don&apos;t know what I create or how boring and bad I can be. You don&apos;t know who my Internet Service Provider is. So, what else do you want to know. ".........

Quote: "That stick's showing me something. I collected a turned lamp in burr alder today from a woodman - parts still have the bark on - it's beautiful. ".........

yes, leaving the bark on is beautiful, carved, sanded some, and wood-burnt designs and words all around . Now I can take a aspen branch, about 2 " wide, a foot long, split it down the middle, cut clean crisp ends, and then begin carving opposite shapes, or carve shapes in the opposing halves, then put them back together as a stand. Oh, then to pick that stick up again, so completed feeling in your hands, that subtle smell of wood smoke... ahhh. Who needs a woman when you can have wood? Don't answer that!

ok, i'm back, and with a 20 foot branch, the conditions were just too good to leave it hanging, off the ground, bark intact, all gnarled and orange colored, and even had a bit of a glide on the trail back, over deer tracks.

so it's on the porch for now, resting, like me, humid, just enough moisture, to hold in, the... spirit

Quote: "Thing is, stephen keeps giving the game away and now he has a low boredom threshold to add to his boringness but without the whole - I knew someone like stephen once , he was younger than me but older if you know what I mean, always ready with a helpful hint, and a friendly sideswipe (or is that fiendly? I dunno, who cares), y&apos;know like: go phuck yourself and other timely reminders. Ah those were the days, never to return. I&apos;m just glad I&apos;m not him. ".........

So, there's a fireman rescuing a woman from the 3rd storey window of a building on fire. He gets to the top of the ladder and says, "Hi there, may I say what a pleasure it is to save a pregnant woman." "Pregnant", she says, "I'm not pregnant." "Madam", the fireman replies, "I ain't saved you yet."

Quote: "So, there's a fireman rescuing a woman from the 3rd storey window of a building on fire. He gets to the top of the ladder and says, "Hi there, may I say what a pleasure it is to save a pregnant woman." "Pregnant", she says, "I'm not pregnant." "Madam", the fireman replies, "I ain't saved you yet."".........

Quote: "So, there&apos;s a fireman rescuing a woman from the 3rd storey window of a building on fire. He gets to the top of the ladder and says, "Hi there, may I say what a pleasure it is to save a pregnant woman." "Pregnant", she says, "I&apos;m not pregnant." "Madam", the fireman replies, "I ain&apos;t saved you yet.""......... The woman says: "I already save you, Sir".